


Paradise Lost

by uena



Series: The Road to Hell (is Paved With Good Intentions) [19]
Category: The Tomorrow People (2013)
Genre: Dark, Dirty Bad Wrong, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uena/pseuds/uena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Founder knows. His threats may be vague, but Jedikiah understands him perfectly.</p><p>John, on the other hand, doesn't really know what's going on. He just knows what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hope_calaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope_calaris/gifts).



“Doctor Price. A word.”

Jedikiah freezes. Maybe it’s the Essex accent. Or the voice itself. Maybe it’s the quiet power underlying the voice, the self-satisfied conviction of being superior to everyone else.

“Sir,” he says, keeping his own voice calm, controlled, and turns around to face the Founder. “What may I do for you?”

The Founder gestures for him to step closer, so Jedikiah does – on an otherwise empty floor. They’re completely alone. There’s no need for this kind of forced intimacy. No need at all.

Need or no need, the Founder leans in, once Jedikiah’s close enough, almost whispers. “I’ve recently had the opportunity to hear a rather interesting story. Would you like me to share it with you?”

Only years of practice shielding his thoughts from his brother enable Jedikiah to keep his immediate reaction to himself instead of broadcasting memories from John and him in compromising situations.

He makes himself smile – smirk, rather, because the Founder is not a person you smile at – and forces the feeling of unease down to where it can’t distract him. “By all means, Sir. I’ve always liked a good story.”

The Founder looks at him with something akin to appreciation in his gaze, and favours him with a slow, unpleasant smile. “Very well then. The story, you’ll be appalled to learn, is about a man, distinguished, professional – almost like yourself, Doctor Price --- this story is about a man and a boy.”

Jedikiah feels his face turn to wax, his features frozen in place, only the smirk allowed to drop away. “That, in itself, is nothing to be appalled by, I believe.”

“No,” the Founder allows, “it is not. The appalling aspect lies in the details – as it so often does. I won’t trouble you with them, as I’m sure you’re a man of superior imagination. Let’s just say the nature of their relationship is somewhat questionable. Because the boy, you see, is … an asset, a tool. He’s a blunt instrument to be used, an experiment, a lowly pawn. He’s nothing the man should concern himself with outside the scientific context. Otherwise the boy would turn into a distraction, and that kind of thing never answers. Don’t you agree, Doctor Price?”

Jedikiah physically forces himself not to clear his throat, not to blink, to not show any sign of weakness. “Yes, I agree.”

“Good,” the Founder says, short and simple. “Because otherwise the boy might have to be sent away, so the man could once more focus on his work.”

Jedikiah doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t understand. “That won’t be necessary, Sir.”

“Good,” the Founder says again, stares at Jedikiah without a hint of emotion in his unblinking gaze. “I heard you’ve recently taken a leave of absence. I trust nothing’s amiss?”

“Nothing at all, Sir. I’m perfectly healthy and ready to resume my work.”

The Founder smiles again, empty and cold. “Outstanding. I was afraid you might have succumbed to the recent heat wave. Well, don’t let me detain you any longer, Doctor Price – I’m sure you’re quite busy.”

“Always,” Jedikiah says, his throat dry, and watches the Founder as he turns away from him and walks down the floor towards the elevators.

Fear, real fear, is something Jedikiah hasn’t experienced in years. The last time it happened was when Roger broke through the ice of the lake behind their grandparent’s house.

After that, he’s only felt it like aftershocks of a distant earthquake – never the true, paralyzing fear of possible loss. Even when John was stabbed, he didn’t feel so helpless. He’s feeling it now, though.

Because if the Founder sends John to the Citadel, Jedikiah will never see him again. Not as a person he would recognize. He wouldn’t be John anymore.

 

Jedikiah finds John in the basement, undergoing the Trials. John is more or less alone, only supervised by a single human agent more interested in his crossword puzzle than performing any actual supervision.

Jedikiah can’t blame the man. Watching children shoot at a cluster of fenced-in rats isn’t exactly entertaining. He nods at him in passing, walks over to where John is holding a Magnum Desert Eagle with practised casualness.

“Any progress?”

John turns around at the sound of his voice, points the gun towards the floor. “No.”

He sounds stricken and relieved at once, unwilling to kill even something as insignificant as a rat, but at the same time frustrated that the Program still hasn’t taken effect.

Jedikiah assumes he never really thought this through – that Ultra would not only make him able to kill, but in the end _expect_ him to. He tilts his head, focuses on John. “Any change of symptoms?”

John averts his gaze, looks to where his gun is pointing towards the linoleum. “The headache isn’t quite so bad anymore. But when I try to pull the trigger, I can’t move, and almost black-out.”

“I see.” Jedikiah moves, goes to stand directly behind John. “Aim, please.”

He can see the reluctance in John’s stance as he lifts his arms, can feel the unwillingness coming off him in waves. He ignores it. He doesn’t have any other options, at this point.

So he brings up his own arms, puts them alongside John’s. He matches his hands over John’s, takes some of the gun’s weight away from him.

John’s back is pressed tightly against his chest, and Jedikiah can feel him holding his breath. “What are you doing?”

“I’m shooting at rats,” Jedikiah answers, pulls up the Founder’s empty gaze before his mind’s eye when he pulls the trigger.

He feels John shivering against him, feels the tightening of his muscles, and then their slackening, and he takes the gun from John’s lax fingers with his right hand, holds him up against him with his right. “You still with me?”

“Yes,” John says, but he sounds wrecked, exhausted – almost like he does in the bedroom, and Jedikiah has to shut his eyes against the accompanying coil of heat unfurling in his gut.

“Good,” he says, his voice rough and commanding. “Think you can manage again?”

John’s throat escapes an anguished noise, but he nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

Jedikiah looks to his left where the supervising agent is still engrossed in his crossword, then presses a quick kiss to the side of John’s head. “That’s my darling. Up on your feet.”

He doesn’t expect John to be able to take all off his own weight again so soon, but John simply leans forward and onto the balls of his feet, only sways once before he gets his bearing.

“Good boy,” Jedikiah murmurs into his ear, lets his breath ghost along John’s cheek. They’re pressed together from groin to neck now, and Jedikiah can almost taste the resulting heat between them. “Ready?”

“Yes,” John says, sounding anything but.

Jedikiah pulls the trigger.

He doesn’t stop until the magazine is empty, and all the rats are dead.


	2. Chapter 2

John stays quiet all the way home. He doesn’t know what to say, feels empty in a way he couldn’t explain, doesn’t even want to try to describe.

He sits huddled in his seat beside Jedikiah, head down and shoulders high, half buried in a hoody that’s too big for him and too warm for the season.

His skin feels too tight, hot and as if it doesn’t belong to himself, and John can’t stop staring at Jedikiah’s profile: at the grim lines around his mouth, the angry tick in his jaw.

As much as it scares John, the anger looks good on Jedikiah – makes him appear even stronger than usual, like an amplified version of himself, darker and more real.

Maybe he can be like that, one day – just as strong and capable, not a whiny little boy who faints at the sight of blood.

The headache, as intense as it was, is gone by the time they reach Jedikiah’s house, and all that’s left is the jittery feeling of lingering adrenaline.

Killing those rats was excruciating, every single shot like a direct hit to his head, the aftershocks spiralling through his whole body. Excruciating wasn’t all it was, though.

With Jedikiah standing directly behind him, his body a firm, hot line pressed up against John … he felt safe, eerily calm – excited. His head was hurting and his hands almost numb with how he had to force them into submission, but the rest of his body … the rest of his body was on fire.

If it hadn’t been for the pain, he’d probably have gotten hard. John isn’t sure if that’s the most awful part of the experience, or the one that made it bearable.

He can’t shake it, is the thing. Despite the knowledge that it’s wrong, _scary_ even, he can’t stop the persistent heat in his belly, the coiling willingness to be controlled like that, touched with gentle but merciless determination.

He wants to feel Jedikiah’s breath on his cheek again, wants him to call him a good boy – to hold him up while using his body in whatever manner pleases him.

Because not only did John feel _safe_ during that experience, he felt strong, too. It doesn’t make any sense that he did, but that doesn’t change anything, doesn’t change the fact that he craves the feeling, now – _wants_ that helplessness turning into strength again.

He keeps quiet when Jedikiah parks the car, keeps quiet on the way to the door. Finding the right words is never easy for him, but even if it was, he wouldn’t know how to ask for what he wants – because he doesn’t really know.

Or maybe he knows precisely what he wants and is just afraid of Jedikiah’s reaction.

Because he’s never seen Jedikiah like this – so quiet and withdrawn. Jedikiah’s never been a forthcoming or open person, has always been private. But this is different.

This is terrifying.

Jedikiah reminds him of a trapped animal, silently pacing, snarling at anything that moves. The perfect self-control and power otherwise resting so lightly on his shoulders seem to have fallen down into his hands, forcing him to hold on to them with clenched fists.

In different circumstances, John would ask him what’s wrong. But John doesn’t need to ask. He knows it’s his fault.

He’s the one who fainted, after all.

He’s the one who blacked-out after killing a couple of rats, who made a joke out of himself and Jedikiah by proxy.

He’s the reason Jedikiah is so angry.

That’s why he stays quiet on the way into the living room, and sits down on the sofa determined not to make things worse by opening his mouth and uttering an apology that would only serve to further infuriate Jedikiah.

Jedikiah doesn’t want his apologies. He’s never wanted them. He wants him to do his best, not to ask for forgiveness when he failed.

So it’s startling when Jedikiah sits down right next to him, when he puts his arm around John’s shoulders, pulls him close and presses his face into John’s hair.

“I’m sorry,” Jedikiah whispers, sounding broken and desperate in a way that’s far more terrifying than the preceding anger.

John turns towards him as if on auto-pilot, puts his arms around him and holds him, tries to give all the comfort he could never express with words, although he has really no clue what’s going on.

For a few seconds, all Jedikiah does is breathe, deep and slow, every exhale a warm gush of air across John’s scalp. “I shouldn’t have done that to you,” he says then. “I’m so sorry, darling.”

John has to close his eyes trying to deal with the resulting tumult of emotion flooding over him. He has no real idea what Jedikiah’s talking about. It can’t be the rats. Jedikiah was only trying to help him with the rats.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he says, every single ounce of his confusion bleeding into the words. “I’m fine.”

Jedikiah chuckles, self-deprecating and humourless, and presses a kiss to the top of John’s head. “I pushed you so far you fainted, John. Forced you to pull that trigger until you collapsed.”

His voice sends a shiver down John’s back, the memory it draws up so vivid in colour and texture he has to suppress a moan. He’s painfully aroused, suddenly, the lingering adrenaline flaring up as if it’d been lying in wait for Jedikiah to say those exact words.

“Yes,” he says, because there’s no denying the facts, “but I’m fine now, I promise. No … no harm done.”

He hears Jedikiah take a hasty breath, and then his embrace is almost crushing John – too tight, too forceful, entirely perfect.

John feels the heat uncoiling in his belly, feels it spread out into the rest of his body, making him go limp with relief and pleasure.

“I’m fine,” he repeats, and tries to press even closer to Jedikiah, lifts his head up to kiss him.

Jedikiah lets out a muffled sound of surprise when their lips meet, but he kisses back instantly.

It’s too soft though, too careful, too tender … John doesn’t want it like that right now. It’s not what he needs.


	3. Chapter 3

Jedikiah is a man who’s aware of his surroundings at all times. He automatically memorizes the layout of each room he’s in, and, if possible, the layout of the whole building.

He’s aware of exit strategies, and tries to come up with ways to turn almost every piece of furniture into a weapon if necessary. His defence is up at all times.

Being with John somehow strips that away from him. Sometimes, being close to John feels like floating in a vacuum – safe, but without any firm ground to stand on, cut off from reality.

It feels like that now, when John crawls onto his lap, and kisses him until he hasn’t any breath left.

Jedikiah had thought John was feeling _ill_ after what he’d put him through, but judging from the firm line of heat pressing against his stomach, John’s not feeling ill at all.

John’s not _fine_ though, no matter what he might say, and Jedikiah tries to soften their kiss, turn it gentle.

John doesn’t let him. John, otherwise so pliant and eager to follow his lead, kisses him so fiercely it almost hurts, bites and nibbles and licks at his lips until they’re red and swollen, twists his fingers in his hair until his scalp burns.

Jedikiah feels out of his depth, hopelessly turned on, desperate to regain control over himself. He can’t though, not with John acting like this – not with the memory of the Founder’s threats locked into his brain.

John mustn’t know about the threats. Not ever. John knowing would lead to a string of questions Jedikiah doesn’t want to answer, would lead to a topic he doesn’t even want to think about while John is around him.

John doesn’t know anything about the Citadel, and Jedikiah plans on keeping it that way.

So Jedikiah tries to block the memory out, tries to focus on John and relax.

But John bites him again, sucks on his tongue and lets his hips snap forward, and Jedikiah has so suppress a groan and squeezes his eyes shut. “John, darling, what are you doing to me?”

John makes a whiny sound against Jedikiah’s mouth and tries to kiss him again, and Jedikiah has to hold him off with his right hand pressed against John’s chest.

He can feel John’s heart beat rapidly beneath his palm, can feel each desperately drawn breath, and Jedikiah opens his eyes to look at him. “Darling … darling, slow down. We have time.”

John looks back at him from beneath drooping lashes, his pupils blown wide, almost eclipsing the irises. He doesn’t say anything, his rapid breath the only sound in the otherwise quiet living room; Jedikiah lifts up his left hand to John’s cheek, and John leans into the touch at first, then turns his head to kiss Jedikiah’s palm – before he opens his mouth to suck Jedikiah’s thumb into it.

It’s a dirty move, is what it is, and after the day he’s been having, Jedikiah doesn’t have the energy left to keep his defences up. It’s not like he doesn’t remember that John asked him for rougher sex, that he promised him at least one taste of _hurting_ with pleasure.

“Are you trying to seduce me, John?” he asks, and his voice sounds off – even to himself. Dangerous. Threatening.

John moans around his thumb, and his lashes flutter shut.

Jedikiah just looks at him, for what feels like an eternity. On the one hand, he’s made a promise to John – and it’s obvious that John is ready to go down that road rather sooner than later. On the other hand, today is hardly the day to cross even more lines than they already did.

John may not be in pain anymore, but he’s hardly unaffected by what happened at the shooting range. He wouldn’t be acting the way he is right now if he wasn’t.

“Is this what you need?” Jedikiah asks him, lets his thumb drag over John’s tongue and pulls it out of his mouth to press it against his lower lip, red and shiny with spit. “Do you want me to make you feel better?”

Jedikiah’s right hand is still pressed firmly against John’s chest, allowing him to notice the hasty intake of breath, the slight shiver running through John’s body.

“Do you need me to make you feel good, darling?” Jedikiah doesn’t like how his voice drops low with the question, how it makes him sound seductive, almost predatory.

John nods, though, hasty and feverishly. “Yeah … I … I need that.”

Jedikiah dry-swallows. “And I’m guessing you don’t want it … soft?”

“Hard,” John says immediately, overlapping Jedikiah’s last word. “I … I need you to …” He takes another deep breath, visibly unsure how to go on, and Jedikiah takes pity on him.

“You need me to take care of you? … Use you?”

John’s pupils dilate even more. “Yeah.”

Jedikiah takes a deep breath, tries to focus on anything but the dangerous fire flaring up inside of him. “Okay,” he murmurs, his voice going even lower than before. “Okay.” He kisses John, gently, and with closed lips. “Tell me your safe-word.”

John lets his gaze drop, avoids Jedikiah’s eyes. “I don’t need one.”

His cheeks are flushed, his hair’s dishevelled, and he looks so painfully young Jedikiah would love to lock him away to keep him safe from everything, including himself. “Yes, you do. And as soon as you start feeling uncomfortable, I need you to use it. Otherwise we’re not doing this.”

John bites his lip and nods. “Okay, okay. Sparrow, then.”

Jedikiah studies his face, and nods once John lifts his gaze to look at him again. “Sparrow it is. Now …” He lifts his right hand off John’s chest and holds it in front of his face, fore- and middle finger pressed together and separated from the rest. “Be a good boy and get these nice and wet for me.”

John complies immediately, not a second of doubt or hesitation. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth, and Jedikiah pushes the fingers inside, neither slowly nor gently.

John almost gags on them, and Jedikiah pulls them back automatically, but John stops him – holds on to his hand with both of his own, follows his fingers with his mouth.

Jedikiah lets him, watches him suck on his fingers, while trailing his free hand down John’s front, unbuttoning his jeans, unzipping his fly.

John licks sloppy circles around his fingers while Jedikiah pushes his jeans and underwear down, bares his ass.

“It will hurt,” he cautions, watches John’s eyes roll back into his head behind half closed lids, “so don’t forget your safe-word.” With that he pulls his fingers out of John’s mouth, his hand out of his grasp. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” John breathes, leaning forward to lick at Jedikiah’s lips. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

Jedikiah nods and tries to keep his expression blank while he brings his hand down to John’s ass. He keeps the pants out of the way with his left, trails his spit-slick fingers along John’s cleft. “Here we go.”

He pushes in slowly, with both fingers at once – lets John get used to the intrusion, lets him feel everything.

John just whines and takes it, latches on to Jedikiah with both hands, buries his face in Jedikiah’s shoulder.

“Just like that,” Jedikiah murmurs into his ear, lets his breath stroke across John’s cheek. “Look at you ... how you just open up for me – such a good boy.”

John’s throat leaves a tiny whimper, but he stays relaxed around Jedikiah’s fingers, allows him in, inch by inch. Jedikiah closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He can’t be sure what John expects from him, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give the boy everything he’s got.

“You’re always hot and ready for me – aren’t you, John? Always so eager for me to fill you up … to take care of you.” He scissors his fingers inside John’s ass, spreads them as wide as they will go. John takes a hasty breath but doesn’t make a sound.

Jedikiah presses a kiss to his lips, soft, almost chaste. “And I’ll take such good care of you, darling … you’ll be feeling me for days.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of this is pretty much PWP. With a light sprinkling of characterization, of course.

John feels breathless, dizzy, every cell in his body burning with a blend between shame and pleasure.

Each and every one of Jedikiah’s words seems to have a direct link to his nervous system, sends a spark of arousal directly to his cock.

It’s not only the words though. Without the lube Jedikiah’s fingers feel different than usual – the stretch burns, hurts in just the right way. The pain makes John feel light-headed, and he doesn’t know why he likes it, but he does – loves it, actually.

He’s never felt so _good_ , so safe and powerful, never been this aroused.

“I’ll let you ride me,” Jedikiah whispers into his ear. “Get you completely naked and watch you on top of me – then put you on all fours and fuck you ‘til you scream.”

The words punch all of the air out of John’s lungs, and he gasps, grabs on to Jedikiah’s shirt with both hands, presses his face deeper into Jedikiah’s shoulder.

“You want that, don’t you, darling?” Jedikiah murmurs, his breath tickling John’s cheek. “Want me to hold you down and use you as I please?”

“Yes,” John whimpers, pushes back against the fingers spreading him open, lets the delicious burn wash over him and drag him under. “Yes, I want that.”

It feels like floating, being so close to Jedikiah, being held up by his warmth and strength. Other people might consider it dangerous – giving yourself up so thoroughly to someone, trusting them with your safety and well-being … but if John can’t trust Jedikiah, he can’t trust anyone.

So he lets himself fall, allows himself to drown in the pleasure Jedikiah offers.

“Alright then,” Jedikiah whispers, and pulls his fingers out, leaving John feeling empty and yearning. “Lets get you naked, darling.”

As much as he’d like to, John can’t move. His muscles feel like jelly, useless and far too weak to hold him upright.

“Already too much for you, is it?” Jedikiah’s smug little smirk goes directly to John’s cock, makes it twitch inside his shorts. “Well, I said I’d take care of you … So hold on, darling, I’ve got you.”

He stands up with the words still lingering in the air, and John automatically puts both arms around his neck, lets Jedikiah lift him up, bridal style.

Jedikiah kisses him, while he carries him out of the living room and down the floor towards the bedroom – kisses him deep and forceful, bites at John’s mouth until he doesn’t know if he should moan and beg for more or pull back.

Once they reach the bedroom, Jedikiah puts him down carefully, though, makes sure John is steady on his feet before he lets go off him to pull the hoody off of him.

He lets it drop to the floor and looks at John – half naked with his pants gaping open in the front, a dark spot in his shorts displaying the state of his arousal.

John doesn’t try to cover it up, he keeps still, lets Jedikiah’s appreciative gaze glide over him, squirms under the way his eyes darken and seem to devour him.

Time freezes for a moment, with none of them moving, and then Jedikiah starts to unbutton his shirt, slowly and deliberately, not taking his eyes off John.

“Take off your pants,” he orders, “and get on the bed.”

John hastens to comply, but his hands are shaking, and his fingers feel numb – just as they did when Jedikiah helped him on the shooting range.

The memory is a flame of ice-cold fire, burning through his body, and his jeans drop to the floor in an ungainly heap around his ankles. John blushes, feels his blood rush to the surface of his skin, hot and prickling.

He manages to step out of the jeans without falling, and shoves his shorts down without any attempt at elegance or subtlety. He gets rid of his socks, and when he straightens back up, Jedikiah’s still looking at him.

“On the bed,” he repeats. “Now.”

There’s barely any tenderness left in his voice, just the suggestion of a lazy fondness beneath the overwhelming self-assuredness of command. It leaves John almost shaking with desire, weak with the desire to submit and obey.

So he scrambles over and onto the bed, and Jedikiah steps up to it, slowly undoing his belt with his right hand. “Kneel on the edge, face to me.”

John turns around automatically, tries not to get distracted by his arousal, curving towards his belly, leaking pre-come onto his flushed skin. Jedikiah’s already there, standing right next to the bed, right in front of him, looking down on him with a crooked smile. “Aren’t you eager …”

He lifts his hand to cup John’s cheek, let’s his thumb drag across John’s lower lip. It’s still tender from kissing, and John lets his mouth fall open instinctively, allows Jedikiah to push his thumb into it.

“I need you to use that mouth of yours a little bit more purposefully,” Jedikiah says, tightening his grip on John’s jaw, forcing him to open his mouth wider. “Make up for the lack of lube with your tongue.”

He pushes him down, while he says it, and John has to squeeze his eyes shut, moans helplessly. His head is spinning, and he’s so turned on that he’d do anything for Jedikiah, _anything_.

“That’s it – open up”, Jedikiah says, his voice sounding far off, but still managing to send a shiver down John’s spine. “Use your hands, darling … I’ll take care you don’t fall off the bed.”

There’s no question of trusting Jedikiah, so John lets him hold him in place while he uses his hands to unbutton Jedikiah’s pants and pull down his zipper. He tries to control his movements, tries to do it efficiently instead of hasty and greedy, but his self-control is at its lowest, and he almost tears the waistband of Jedikiah’s shorts.

He frees his cock with trembling fingers, and then doesn’t even have to push forward to take it into his mouth – Jedikiah does it for him, hard and fast and just like he needs it.

He fucks John’s mouth with short, merciless thrusts, just deep enough to brush against his windpipe. It’s perfect, intoxicating, and John loses himself in the sensation of being used like this. He doesn’t even try to keep it clean, lets the saliva run down his chin.

Jedikiah’s left hand is in his hair, gripping it tightly, the other one still on his face, controlling every move.

John isn’t aware of making any sound, but when Jedikiah pulls back, he sounds slightly winded. “The _noises_ coming out of your mouth, John … I should fuck it like that more often, should I?”

He pulls John up with both hands, tightening the grip in his hair until John is upright on his knees once more. “Should I?” he repeats, and John tries to nod, tries to get his unsteady breathing under control.

“Yes,” he finally manages, his voice raspy, and can’t stop himself from licking his lips. “Yes, please.”

Jedikiah stares at him with wild eyes, then leans down, suddenly, and kisses him. He’s just as forceful as the last time, but John can feel emotions bleeding through – desperation and lust … joy and affection.

He moans, grabs onto Jedikiah with trembling fingers, tries to drag him onto the bed. Jedikiah pushes his hands away though, grabs John’s wrists and holds on to them, breaks the kiss.

John pants against his mouth and whines, and Jedikiah chuckles, low and rough. “I know, I know – you want it bad. Don’t worry, John, I’ll fill you right back up – just like you need it.”

He strokes John’s head, while he says it, lets his fingers run gently through his hair, and John leans into the touch and closes his eyes. He re-opens them when Jedikiah withdraws his hand, and watches him strip off the rest of his clothes.

“You look positively debauched,” Jedikiah tells him. “Are you sure you’re up for more?”

John just stares at him, and Jedikiah joins him on the bed, sits down with his back resting against the headboard. “Don’t look at me like that. Come here.”

John scrambles onto his lap as fast as he can, and Jedikiah steadies him with warm hands, squeezes his ass. “Ready?”

John just kisses him.

“I’ll take that as a Yes,” Jedikiah smirks, lets his fingers trail along John’s cleft. “Do you want me to use a condom? Or would you prefer me to come inside you – fill you up properly?”

John is in grave danger of blacking-out from the sudden sensory overload – the combination of Jedikiah’s voice, his suggestive undertone, the visual it called-up. He breathes in sharply, remembers how it felt the last time – Jedikiah marking him.

“No condom,” he forces out, licks his lips and briefly looks down at Jedikiah’s cock – hard and ready, leaking at the tip. “I want to … feel everything.”

“Then I’ll give you everything,” Jedikiah replies, and his fingertips brush over John’s hole. “Up with your hips, darling, come on – up.”

John hastens to comply, gets his feet under him and lifts his ass; Jedikiah guides his movements, grabs his hips and holds him up. His arousal makes him feel high, and John sways, the muscles in his thighs straining to keep him balanced.

“You’ll need to do better than that, darling.” Jedikiah lets go of him with his right hand, pushes two fingers inside him without warning, and John keens, almost topples forward. “We can’t have you falling off halfway through, now – can we?”

The sudden stretch burns even more than before, he feels impossibly full – but he still wants more. “I … I can do better,” he grates out, holds on to Jedikiah’s shoulders for balance. “I can do better … I promise.”

“That’s my good boy …” The softly spoken words only serve to spurn John on; he takes a deep breath and forces his body into stillness – his ass above Jedikiah’s cock, ready, waiting.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Jedikiah comments, pulls his fingers out, grabs his cock instead. “So desperate to be fucked …”

John’s breath hitches, but he manages to keep still, keeps his eyes wide open as he feels the head of Jedikiah’s cock press against his entrance, stares at a spot somewhere to the left of Jedikiah.

“So desperate for me to take you apart …”

It hurts, when Jedikiah pushes into him, forces the head of his cock through the quivering ring of muscle around John’s hole – but the pain does nothing to diminish John’s arousal, only adds more fuel to the fire cursing through his veins.

His blunt nails scratch over Jedikiah’s shoulders, and he tries to keep quiet, he really tries – tries to be good and just take it while Jedikiah pulls him down inch by inch. In the end he can’t stop himself from crying out Jedikiah’s name, over and over again.

“You actually sound like you’re enjoying yourself.” Jedikiah sounds almost reverent, and John makes the mistake of looking at him. “Is this what you wanted, darling? Is this forceful enough for you?”

John bites his lips and lowers his gaze, stares at Jedikiah’s mouth instead of his eyes, and Jedikiah smirks and indicates a tiny little headshake. “No?”

“No,” John echoes, his voice wrecked. “I … I want more.”

“Of course you do,” Jedikiah smiles, dangerous and predatory. “You always want more, don’t you, John?”

John feels his cheeks heat up, but he nods. Jedikiah pulls him down another inch. “Go ahead and take it, then – I won’t stop you.”

John doesn’t even give himself the time to think about it – starts moving instead, up and then down, too fast, too deep. It hurts more than it did before, and he gasps, closes his eyes.

“John?” Jedikiah sounds concerned, and his hands encircle John’s hips with sudden carefulness.

It’s not what John wants, not at all, so he keeps moving, up and down, up and down … until the stretch and burn start to feel good again – the pain mingles with the pleasure, and he feels utterly invincible.

Jedikiah stops talking, then, but his hands remain a gentle presence at John’s hips, guiding his movements and holding on to him with fierce protectiveness.

“Jed,” John moans, and there’s a plea in the one syllable, a silent request for Jedikiah to use his hands differently – use John differently.

“I could watch you all day,” Jedikiah says promptly. There’s no quiver in his voice, nothing betrays the concern he felt a few minutes ago – and John lets himself fall into the chasm the words unlock underneath him. “You look so good fucking yourself on my cock … you should see your face, John. Completely gone for me … wanton. Not a trace of shame.”

One of his hands trails upwards, slowly and deliberately, warm fingers brush lightly across John’s skin, leave a trail of goose bumps behind. The touch is unexpected, stands in stark contrast to Jedikiah’s words and John’s feverish movements.

The fingers close around John’s left nipple, pinch it hard, result in a spike of pain shooting down John’s torso, only adding to the heat in his belly.

“Jed,” John whimpers – tries to move faster, tries to ignore the exhausted burning in his thigh-muscles. He knows he can’t go on like this for much longer, and that only serves to make his movements more desperate, only edges him on until he almost collapses on top of Jedikiah.

He doesn’t want to stop – it feels too good, too exhilarating to stop.

“You know what would look even better?” Jedikiah says then, and John’s eyes nearly roll back into his head from the sound of his voice alone. “You coming all over yourself … can you do that, John? Can you come for me?”

Jedikiah pinches John’s right nipple, just as John goes down on his cock once more, and John cries out and comes with a strangled moan.

His orgasm seems to go on forever, his come shooting up to his chest, almost hitting his chin. Jedikiah’s cock stays buried deep inside of him the entire time, and he rests his head against Jedikiah’s shoulder. John feels weak afterwards, strung-out and exhausted – utterly satisfied … until Jedikiah kisses his cheek, whispers in his ear. “Good boy.”

The words travel through John’s body like fire along a sparkler – leaving him burnt and spent, but aching for more nonetheless.

“You did so good, darling … came so good for me … looked so pretty fucking yourself on my cock.”

The praise does things to John, makes him feel warm all over – different than before. Jedikiah’s holding him upright with an arm across his back, pets him with his free hand, and John’s mind starts to drift, and his cock starts to twitch.

“We can stop now, if you want,” Jedikiah whispers, and John escapes a more or less frantic noise of disapproval.

He doesn’t expect Jedikiah to gasp, and for a few seconds he’s completely disoriented – until John realises that Jedikiah’s still buried all the way inside of him, and he just clamped down on him like a vice.

“Okay, okay,” Jedikiah chuckles, a certain breathlessness accompanying the words, “no stopping, I got it. You’ll get everything you need from me, darling, don’t you worry.”


	5. Chapter 5

Never, not for once in his life, has Jedikiah felt so utterly out of his depth while being in complete control over a situation. John’s still sitting on his lap, panting, coming down from his orgasm – a high so elevating his feet won’t touch the ground for days to come – and Jedikiah feels so tightly strung that he’s afraid he might snap any second.

He’s enjoying this too much. John offering himself up for him to control and use is a temptation he could never resist – not when John relishes it as much as he does, looks so good being helpless and compliant.

It would be so easy to reduce him to this – a toy to abuse at will. Jedikiah understands the rumours, suddenly – why everyone thinks John is nothing more than a plaything to him, a pastime to while away the hours until Jedikiah gets bored and moves on to something else.

… Jedikiah suddenly understands why Roger is so afraid for John.

It’s not because Roger knows about John’s penchant for submission – not when not even Jedikiah knew about its full extent. It’s because he knows _Jedikiah_ … knows how much Jedikiah likes to be in control – up to the point where he forces his environment to bow to his will or suffer the consequences.

Jedikiah doesn’t want that to happen to John, doesn’t want to force him into anything. He wants John to bow down out of his own free will, not only now, but always.

Always.

“Are you ready for round two, darling?” he asks John, strokes his head, his naked back. “Or do you still need a moment?”

John’s hot and tight around him, and it’s alarming how easy it is to control the urge to push up and into him, how easy it is to wait until John is ready.

John shivers beneath his touch, tries to press even closer than he already is, and Jedikiah brushes a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “You’re sure that you want to go on? We can do this some other time, you know? I can … well … put you on your hands and knees when you’re not quite so … out of it.”

John sighs against his shoulder, soft and warm, and licks over the heated skin. Jedikiah doesn’t know if it’s a reaction to his question, or if John does it just because he can – because he wants to.

Whatever the reason, it sends a bolt of want directly to Jedikiah’s core. Suddenly it’s not quite so easy anymore, waiting until John’s ready. But Jedikiah forces himself to remain passive, unmoving.

“That wasn’t an answer, darling,” he whispers into John’s ear, kisses him again. John makes a tiny, needy noise at the back of his throat – and lifts his hips, slowly, inch by inch, until Jedikiah slips out of him.

Jedikiah helps him automatically, prevents him from face-planting into his chest, and then lowers him onto his lap again, slowly, gently.

John moves as if on strings, boneless and with a sleepy obedience to his actions that does nothing to alleviate the desire growing like a black cloud inside Jedikiah.

He puts his hand under John’s chin and lifts it up, looks into his eyes. They have glazed over, look feverish and hazy, with only a sliver of dark blue irises remaining around the inky black of his pupils.

“You’ve been so good already, John. I couldn’t possibly expect you to give me more.”

“Want to,” John murmurs, his voice sluggish, rough and low, “want to give you everything. Want you … want you to … make me feel _good_ again. Hold me down and fill me up.”

The words are nothing more than a repetition of what Jedikiah’s already said to him, but coming from John, they sound different – needy and desperate instead of seductive. Utterly deprived.

“Please, Jed,” John whispers, licks his lips, gazes up at Jedikiah with heat and lust in his eyes. “I’ll be good for you, I promise. You can do whatever you want with me. Fuck me as hard as you like.”

“Oh, I will,” Jedikiah says, because there’s no point in denying them what they both so clearly want. “Come on then – kneel on the edge of the bed again, ass to me, this time.”

John merely smiles dreamily and moves to follow his orders, and Jedikiah gets up and off the bed, takes a few, slow, deep breaths. “I won’t do this without lube,” he decides, his voice clear, brooking no argument.

John blinks at him, falters in his movements. “But … but I thought I’d been good?”

“You were perfect, darling,” Jedikiah soothes him. “And I promise to be harder on you than you could possibly imagine. But I won’t … break you. I’ll still need you afterwards, after all.”

Jedikiah steps closer to the bed, reaches out and cups John’s left cheek. John leans into the touch, closes his eyes. “Okay.”

Jedikiah almost thanks him. Instead, he keeps still for a few seconds, then lets his thumb brush over John’s cheekbone. “Time to turn around, darling.” His mouth twists into a lopsided grin. “Try not to fall off the bed.”

He gets an absent-minded smile out of John for that, and the pleasure of watching him arrange his long, slender limbs until he’s kneeling on the edge of the bed, legs spread, arms bent at the elbows, his right cheek resting on the sheets.

“Are you comfortable?” Jedikiah inquires while he opens the topmost drawer of the nightstand.

“Yeah,” John says as Jedikiah takes out the bottle of lube. “I’m good.”

“Okay then.” Jedikiah doesn’t give himself the time to linger and enjoy the picture John presents right now. Arousal is burning through him, licking at the edges of his self-control, searing his restraint.

He toys with the idea of using the same liberal amount of lube he usually does – just to be safe, to make sure he won’t hurt John.

He promised, however.

And if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t really want to, either. So he uses as little as possible, merely a hint of lubrication on his fingers before he pushes them into John once more.

He watches John close his eyes while he does it, watches his mouth fall open around a soundless moan.

“Just a few more seconds,” he promises, not entirely sure if to John or to himself, and pulls his fingers back out. “We’re almost ready, darling.”

John pushes back at the words, tries to chase his fingers, and Jedikiah can’t stop himself from executing a gentle smack across his ass. “Keep still.”

He hears John whimper, watches him shiver and obey, and Jedikiah uses another small amount of lube to coat his erection with.

It feels heavy by now, almost uncomfortably so, and the sight of John’s bent form, ready and waiting for him, makes Jedikiah tighten forefinger and thumb of his right hand around the base in a more or less futile attempt to calm himself down.

He takes a few deep breaths, as calm and measured as possible, then takes himself in hand, steps up closer to the bed where John is still offering himself up with closed eyes.

There’s not enough restraint left in Jedikiah to be gentle, but he bites his lip and tries anyway – tries not to shove in as deep and hard as he wants. What he ends up doing is riding a fine line between brutal and carefully daring.

John’s surprised intake of breath is more than audible – broken and chopped – but then he moans, tightens around Jedikiah until he has difficulty seeing straight.

He spanks John’s flank this time, his access to John’s ass being somewhat restricted. “Loosen up, darling, or you’ll make me come a lot sooner than we both want.”

The sound leaving John’s mouth is almost a sob, but he obeys, his knuckles turning white from his desperate clutch on the sheets.

Jedikiah takes another deep breath and pets the spot he just hit. “You still remember your safe-word?”

“Sparrow,” John whispers, licks his lips immediately afterwards. “… I feel good, Jed.”

“That’s the idea,” Jedikiah murmurs back. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Yeah,” John says, somewhat dreamily, and Jedikiah starts to move. He sets a brutal rhythm right from the start, because he can feel his stamina coming to an end, and he wants to give John all he could possibly ask for.

His reward is a string of helpless little noises falling over John’s parted lips, each more hopelessly abandoned than the last one. He seems unable to form proper words anymore, barely manages to hold himself up for Jedikiah to take.

Jedikiah wants to talk to him, wants to tell him how good he is, how delicious he looks like this, but he can’t seem to relax his jaw. Instead, he maintains a firm hold on John’s hips, his fingers pressing into the hot, sweaty skin. The drag and pull of his pushes is increasingly desperate, but he loses none of the force he started with.

John moans into the sheets, can’t seem to contain himself – not that Jedikiah would want him to. He can feel his orgasm approach, can taste it at the back of his throat, and he thrusts a little harder, a little faster.

The wet noise when he pushes forward – the sound of skin on skin when he slams into John – is becoming gradually more unbearable. It mingles with the sounds of pleasure leaving John’s mouth, and just before Jedikiah can’t take it anymore, just before he gives in and surrenders, he lets himself fall forward and over John’s body – just far enough so he can press a hand to his neck, hold him down and push him into the sheets.

John whimpers and goes limp, his whole body submitting to Jedikiah’s show of power – even his grip on the sheets loosens. He looks relaxed, all of a sudden, trusting and carefree, fearless. The visual unlocks something in Jedikiah, allows him to speak again, to put his head next to John’s and whisper into his ear. “You’re mine, John. You’ve always been, and you always will be.”

He tightens his hold on John’s neck to emphasize the words, lets his thumb brush through the damp hair at the bottom. “I’ll never let you go.”

The words do something to John. He tenses up again, turns his face into the mattress and groans, pushes his ass up, goes impossibly tight. Jedikiah’s not sure if the boy just came or if he merely let go of his remaining inhibitions.

Whatever the reason for John’s reaction, it makes it absolutely impossible for Jedikiah to keep any resemblance of control over himself. He slams into John as deep and as hard as he possibly can, once, twice, and then allows himself to surrender.

His orgasm doesn’t so much hit him as rise steadily higher until it finally eclipses him. The moment when it reaches its summit drags on forever, leaves him as vulnerable and content as he’ll ever be. He keeps just as still as John does, waits out each wave of pleasure with closed eyes and parted lips, hears John’s satisfied moaning, muffled by the sheets, even through the bliss of the aftershocks.

John keeps tensing up, milks every last drop of his release out of him, and Jedikiah feels the kind of laughter bubbling up inside of him that comes from a severe lack of higher brain function.

He presses his face into John’s neck, his breathing still slightly erratic, and does his best to suppress it, but a little chuckle still manages to rise to the surface.

He’s fuzzily aware that he has to draw out at some point, but for the time being Jedikiah’s perfectly happy with staying right where he is.

 

When they’re lying in bed that night – after Jedikiah’s cleaned both of them up, paying special attention to John’s oversensitive hole – it’s the first time that Jedikiah doesn’t particularly mind the cuddling.

John’s even needier than usual, has been acting like a trusting, helpless little animal ever since Jedikiah’s pulled out of him … hasn’t said a word except for Jedikiah’s name.

Jedikiah holds him close, one hand on the small of John’s back, the other one on his neck. He’s constantly petting him, mumbling words of fondness and praise into his ear, calling him a good boy, his darling, perfect in every way.

John revels in it – makes happy little noises against Jedikiah’s naked skin, is almost _innocent_ in the way he shows his affection, and Jedikiah’s heart doesn’t seem to be equipped to deal with that kind of thing.

He feels out of his depth again, is almost overpowered by the helpless desire to keep John safe and warm and _happy_. The knowledge, the cruel certainty that he _can’t_ feels like ice growing on his spine, makes his exterior feel numb while his insides feel unprotected and exposed, vulnerable to any form of attack.

John’s presence is almost soothing, like a balm over an open wound. It makes no difference that Jedikiah received the wound while acquiring that balm, that he wouldn’t hurt if it weren’t for John.

John being a part of his life, he decides, is worth the pain, the fear, and every sacrifice he has to make.


End file.
